Losing it
by SatoriatParis
Summary: How Blossom, at the very early age of six, found her way into madness.


First time with a one-shot, based on a my own experiences with depression and anxiety.

**Losing it**

Her mind was her most valuable asset and she was losing it. Losing it because it was being invaded, taken over by what seemed little worms, tiny little voice worms that kept pulling at each string and nerve of her brain, for fun.

"Blossom?"

Ms. Keane's voice rang out into her head making Blossom's head snapped up. She saw her teacher's confused glance, and realized the teacher must have called her name more than a few times now.

Blossom smiled apologetically "I'm sorry, Ms. Keane..." she muttered, guiltily.

The kind teacher did nothing but smile kindly at the little girl "That's alright. Just try to keep your mind in the exercises!" she told her, pointing at Blossom's math book.

Blossom forced a smile and agreed. Seconds passed by and the redheaded child felt a hand touch her elbow, making her snap around again, in exaggerated shock.

"Blossom?"

"Bubbles..." she sighed "Don't scare me like this!" Blossom ordered, quietly.

Her sister's blue eyes blinked vigorously, but smiled nonetheless "I did nothing but touch you... Are you okay?"

Blossom bit her lower lip nervously and nodded a yes and turned to her own math exercises as her sister did so.

_Control yourself!_

The redhead shut her eyes tight. _No. Get out, please... No. _She thought to herself as her eyes focused on the book before her. The numbers and words seemed to blend within each other, forming symbols she could not recognize.

_Stupid._

The redheaded girl brought her hands to her eyes, trying to focus._ "I'm gonna do it. I must do it. It's ok, I know it, I got it" _she kept telling herself so 'I know this, I can do it'

_You can't_

_'I'm going to do this!'_

_Useless_

_'Stop!'_

_Stupid..._

The redheaded child clenched her jaw and furrowed her brows and tighetened her fists, anxiety raising up in her throat with bile. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remain calm, collected and rational, though it seemed to be keep getting harder and harder.

Slowly her pink orbits fell into her hands, where she could feel her muscles burning up from inside with the very same coldness she felt down her throat, making its way to her stomach, and sad thoughts invaded her mind.

Thoughts of fear and failure crept from the back of her mind into the depth of her skull and rested all their weight on her forehead, giving the her a migraine. The overall pain made her want to throw up from anxiety and rip her skin off with her nails, crave her fist into her chest and tear it open.

_Stupid._

Unawarely, her own hands moved into the flesh upon her chest, and started to scratch it.

_Stupid._

And it scratched.

_Useless_.

And it scratched.

_You're ridiculous._

Over and over, getting harder and stronger each second while the mind travelled aimlessly, trying to focus on the exercises before her eyes.

_Just look at you._

_Ridiculous._

And then it stopped and her eyes snapped at her own chest when a liquid sensation flooded in. The scratch turned into cut that turned into blood.

Worriedly, she bit down her lips and looked up with caution to check if anyone has noticed, which apparently they didn't. Every single person in the class had their heads hanging low, concentrated into the exercises designated to be done in class.

The stain of blood was relatively small, so she decided to take a chance as she raised her hand "Ms. Keane?"

"Yes, Blossom?" the kind teacher answered without raising her eyes, thankfully.

"May I go to the bathroom?"

As soon as she was allowed Blossom stood up and walked to the bathroom as fast as she could, a faint sensation coming to her eyes as she reached it and shutted the door behind her.

"They all saw me." she heard her own whisper "They all know, they all saw it, they heard it, I know."

She wasn't going to be fooled, she'd seen them. Their eyes, all of them, they had risen up to watch and judge her because they know. Ms Keane, her sisters, Elmer, Mitch, Robyn, they all know, they all heard the voices and they all think the same. They agree with the voices and she knows it's true.

Trembling Blossom took a few steps to look at her reflection in the bathroom small mirror and it was there. Her eyes widened and then narrowed in disbelief, it was huge and it was dripping, coming into contact with her own very skin. She could even feel the cold sensation of the red liquid running down her chest, under her dress. In fact, she could even feel the small, tiny little bugs that crept under her skin, from the cut and the blood.

And there was more to it. She touched her back and she felt them, the little rounds bugs under her skin, creeping on it. They were the dirt underneath her skin.

Take them off.

She needed it, she needed to feel liberated.

Instinctively, she ran her hand as far as she could down her back, trying to sense one of them and she did. So she picked. She twisted and picked her own very skin, waiting for it to happen and hear the satisfacting popping sound that echoed in the back of her mind and the liquid sensation down her back.

She'd killed it, she'd killed the bug. If she could kill one, she could kill all of them. She'd be free and the voices would disappear.

As she picked and popped those little bugs and made herself bleed, she could feel their nastiness, her own very nastiness upon her red tinted fingers and as her own hands travelled up her neck, arms and face, it was contagious. Her nastiness was popping out of her skin, upon it.

_Disgusting._

That's who she was. Disgusting.

At that point, her hair felt greasy and her skin oily from the liquid it dripped, but she still kept on, because it felt pleasurable to get rid of herself.

She was disgusting because of her mistakes that made who she was. She achieved perfection, but nothing came her way, nothing came eactly her way, people didn't act the way she wanted and things didn't turn out the way she wanted. They could turn satisfactory, but never perfect.

And if they didn't, it was her fault. And as days passed, she tried, but she never accomplished it.

So the voices started and she knew they were true by what they told her and she agreed with them.

She was frustrated because she never accomplished exactly what she wanted, the way she wanted and the things she was responsible for were just too big to her own self and that's why she hated herself. And she listened to the voices and she felt frustrated. And she hated herself.

And she wanted perfect, but herself was on the way.

So she kept on picking.

_Fin._


End file.
